Stealing Time
by Runt Thunderbelch
Summary: Nobby Nobb's new girlfriend plans to steal time from Anhk-Morpork.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own no part of the Discworld. It belongs to Terry Pratchett and perhaps to the Great A'tuin.

Timeframe: The story takes place after the events in Pyramids.

Stealing Time

By

Runt Thunderbelch

"So tell me," said the Arch-Priest as his overly mascaraed eyes gazed at steadily at Hupba. "Why do you wish to become a priestess of the goddess Phphsst?"

"Well, Phphsst is said to be the most beautiful of all the goddesses, isn't she? She is the embodiment of grace and elegance, of style and culture. If I am found worthy, I long to follow in her paw prints."

Behind the Arch-Priest, loomed a cat-shaped black onyx statue of the goddess. It stood seven feet high but only six inches across. Gold glittered on its feline eyelids.

"Hmmmm," noted the Arch-Priest as he scribbled something on his roll of papyrus with an ostrich-feather stylus. "Have you had any experience appearing before throngs of people while wearing next to no clothing?"

"Oh, of course," replied Hupba. "For the last four years, I've been a dancing girl in the Royal Palace." She held up the bangles on her arm as proof.

"And the reason you left that position?" As he wrote, the reflection of sunlight glinted off the Arch-Priest's shaven head. He absent-mindedly stroked the sleek, black cat which reclined on his lap among the folds of his golden robes.

"Well, we have a lady Pharaoh now. A lady Pharaoh has no great need of dancing girls, and so she has replaced us all with muscular young men in tight black pants and scarlet bow ties."

"Mhmhmhm." The Arch-Priest made another notation.

BAMMM! BAROOOOOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMMM! WHAMMM! BOOOOOOM! The ostrich-feather stylus stopped writing as the thunder roared. Lightning was flashing between the capstones of the giant pyramids and the cloud-darkened skies. No rain ever fell, no not here in Djelibeybi. The valley of the Djel River had more dry lightning than you could shake a stick at.

"Stand up, please," he said once the cacophony echoed away.

"Stand?"

"Mmm-humm."

Hupba stood.

The Arch-Priest made a little revolving gesture with his finger, and so she slowly turned around while he gazed hungrily at her.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Oh, it is not I whom you must please. It is the goddess." He turned slightly so he could stroke the black onyx statue behind him. "You must do everything she wishes. Everything."

An acolyte came running in. "Your Holiness! Come quickly! There is a fire! In the Holy Treasury!"

"What!" The Arch-Priest leaped to his feet, dumping the black cat on the floor. The two men raced outside.

Hupba gazed after them. Was her job interview over? She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back again.

"So tell me, child," said a female voice behind her.

Hupba jumped. She spun around to find the onyx statue gazing coolly down at her. Hupba immediately prostrated herself on the flagstone floor.

The Arch-Priest's lap cat at first hissed, but then realized just what it was hissing at and fled for all of its nine lives.

"Why do you really want to become one of my priestesses?"

"As I told the Arch-Priest, your Greatness," stammered Hupba. "I wish to follow in your paw prints."

"Nonsense. It's not wise to tell falsehoods to a goddess. What is your real reason?"

Hupba willed herself to cease trembling. "Because I need a job. And because I'm good working with only a few wisps of clothing on."

"I see," replied Phphsst. "But why here in Djelibeybi? Nothing ever happens here." The goddess descended from her pedestal and began pacing back and forth. "This must be the most boring nation on the Discworld. Time passes at a caterpillar's pace."

Hupba gathered enough courage to raise her eyes. "This land is all I know."

"That's just the trouble, child. You know nothing of the outside world. All you know is this boring place." She pointed her nose at the pyramids across the wide and majestic river. "It's their fault, you know. 'Oh, pyramids are great. Razor blades don't dull. Fruit stay fresh. The corpses of our pharaohs don't rot.' Bah, it's because inside those cursed things, time stops. And even around them, time slows down. We wade through history as if we were wading through syrup. What should be our passage of time is hurled away in lightning bolts up into the clouds and blown away to distant land that need it. It is to those lands you should go, child."

"What lands?"

Oh there are many. The city of Ankh-Morpork, for example. There's never enough time in a city. I'll bet our time is sucked down there and drives the city along at a dizzying pace. If I were young, and beautiful . . . and human, that's where I'd go."

"Why don't you go anyway?" asked Hupba. "You have legs. You can walk. Why not go there?"

"Me? No," replied Phphsst. "My Arch-Priest may not believe in me, but he excels at getting me prayers. And to a goddess, prayers are like catnip."

"But what would I do there? Do they have work for a girl whose only talent is not wearing clothes?"

"You want my advice?"

"Oh yes, please."

The goddess leaned in closer and whispered, "Become a cat burglar."

Ⱦ

For untold centuries, the Book had remained chained securely to one of the wrought-iron bookshelves deep within the darkest part of the Unseen University Library. Every wizard who had known of its existence had long since passed on, returning to ancient dust. So for centuries, the Book had remained undisturbed on its bookshelf, gnawing, gnawing, gnawing.

Then one day, the saliva-rusted, and chewed-upon chains fell away. The Book was amazed. The Book was free. After a few moments of stunned silence, it began to rock back and forth until it fell from its shelf. It landed PLOP on the floor of the library, causing a startled rat to jump backwards.

When nothing more happened, the rodent came slowly forward, sniffy suspiciously. Its tiny brain could tell the object which had fallen wasn't alive, and thus it posed no danger to the rat. Closer and closer, sniff sniff sniff.

SNAP!

The rat jumped backwards again but this time bumped into a skeletal rodent, wearing a hooded cloak and standing on its hind legs. In one of its forepaws was a tiny sickle.

"Squeak, squeak?"

"SQUEAK, SQUEAK," replied to ominous little figure.

It was then that the little rat saw his own body lying on the floor, headless. "Squeak!" It glared at the Book and ran at it with its razor-sharp incisors opening wide to rip out a chunk. But the attack was like trying to bite smoke.

"SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK," explained the Death of Rats.

"Squeak," said the rat spirit sadly. Then it and the Death of Rats faded away.

Back in the library, the Book licked at the spilled blood. After centuries of waiting, it had again tasted blood. And it was good.


	2. Chapter 2

As the riverboat make its way up the river Anhk, Hupba gazed down at the water. This river was nothing like the river Djel back home. First, this river had no crocodiles. Second, if any crocodile tried to set up housekeeping in these waters, it would face no danger of drowning because it would suffocate. She wasn't sure if technically this were even water. Usually, when something fell into water, it would splash. Here, it would splat. It might even bounce.

The riverboat she was on was a sidewheeler, with a set of revolving paddles on each side of the boat. Everything was picturesque and serene as they started up the Anhk, but the closer to the city of Anhk-Morpork they got, the more polluted the river became. Now, the paddles of the riverboat no longer propelled the boat through the water but over it.

Hupba smelled the city before she saw it. Or what she smelled might be the river, and not the city. Or she might have been smelling her fellow passengers. It was hard to say.

The city lay in the middle of endless plains. Purple and green waves of cabbage stretched in all direction. An orange haze hung over the city. Or it might have been brown. Or maybe olive green. A million people breathed that every day, so it couldn't be too bad. Could it?

When at last the riverboat chugged up to the dock, Hupba breathed a sigh of relief. This was a religious town after all. Phphsst had a holy temple right here down on the riverfront. She looked again. Okay, so the Ankh-Morporkians had a slightly different view of the goddess than did the people back home. Here, the idol of the feline goddess was a little more curvaceous. And she was pink.

Hupba took her valise in hand, descended the gangplank, and headed for the temple. As she came closer, she could see the words written over the temple entrance: "Pink Pussycat Club," and below that: "Girls! Girls! Girls!" Well, this certainly made her feel welcome. When she got even closer, she could make out yet another smaller sign: "Help wanted! Good pay! Start today!"

Ⱦ

Books have no legs. So it took the Book days to cross the short distance over to the nearby door. The thick oak door was iron studded and stoutly barred.

The Book had been suckled on written words back in the days when it was nothing more than a satanic pamphlet, and so reading was no problem. It was also magical, and so it could see in the dark. The Book looked up through the stygian gloom at the dusty plaque screwed onto the oaken door. The words read:

Keep this door closed!

DUNGEON DIMENSIONS

Enter at your own risk.

This looked very promising. The Book crept closer and began to gnaw on the bottom edge of the door.

Ⱦ

Every nation had its own customs. Back home in Djelibeybi, prayer was a very quiet thing, sometimes led by the Arch-Priest but more often, praying was done alone and silently.

But here in Anhk-Morport, the congregation believed in making a joyous noise unto the gods. They screamed, whistled, stamped their feet, shouted, and threw money. That was another big difference. Back home, priestesses were given just food, clothing, a reed mat to sleep on and an occasional beating. Here, the faithful threw handfuls of money at her. And not just coins either. Ankh-Morpork had a new kind of money made out of paper. Her Gee-string bulged with it.

For Hupba, the most difficult part of the rites was swinging upside down around an aluminum pole. The other priestesses seemed to have mastered this difficult ritual, but Hupba invariable slipped and fell on her head.

The congregation, rather than demanding she be burned alive for this blasphemy, not only forgave her, but showered her with even more money. This was truly a forgiving and blessed religion.

Then that evening, a Djelibeybian god entered the temple. The gods of the Djel either had animal shapes or had animal heads on human bodies. Hupba wasn't sure which one this one was, but her best guess that He was either Haha'hahaha, the hyena-headed god or perhaps Cheeter, the monkey god.

Hupba hurled herself off the holy dias, pushed through the worshipers, and kowtowed on the floor before Him. "Greetings, Exalted One! I am Hupba, priestess of Phphsst."

The god seemed surprised. "Oh, uh, and I am Corporal Nobby Nobbs of the City Watch. Pleased to meet you. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Oh, quite droll, Exalted One. Every schoolchild knows that the gods carry no money. But if this temple does not provide You with libations for free, well then, I shall pay. I have loads of money." Hupba pointed to her dollar-festooned Gee-string. "See?"

"You want to buy me a drink?" Nobby's mind tried to work out the angles, but it kept getting tangled up in the curves. "Uh, okay." Nobby had never been a great one for believing in the gods. But now that he was one, well then, maybe this religion thing wasn't so bad after all.

Ⱦ

Rats are delicious. Any dwarf will tell you that. It doesn't matter whether it's broiled, baked, braised, barbequed, puréed, sautéed, flambéed, fried, fricasseed, in a casserole, on a stick, in a stew, over rice, in a pie, under glass, in a gumbo, in a blanket, whether it's rat surprise, rat turnover, rat jack, rat-side-down cake, rat-tat-tatta-twoie, rat-me-out-Sally, chocolate rat, cherry rat, banana rat, rat sushi, deep-fried rattails, or the two-for-one rat special. It's all good.

So when Runt Thunderbelch saw a particularly stout rat waddling down one of the mine tunnels, he was after it in a heartbeat.

The rat sensed him coming and took off at a dead run. It shot down a crevasse between two rocks, but Runt was right after it, digging like a berserker. Dust, dirt and rocks flew until, without warning, the whole rockface collapsed, bringing down a masonry wall behind it.

Runt hadn't been prepared for this. He crept forwards, peering into the darkness. Everywhere he looked, he saw endless shelves of books. He looked to the right, and he saw books. In front of him were more books. His gaze wandered left, and yes there were more books.

With a sudden chill, he remembered this place. These were books of magic, magical books with their magic leaking out. All of that leaked magic added up, causing time and space to be twisted and warped into L-Space, an intra-dimensional passageway connecting all the magical libraries on Discworld.

Runt had been here in the Library of the Unseen University once before, and it had not been the most pleasant experience of his life. His eyes were drawn even more to the left.

One of the books (a dark and evil one), yes, one of the books was looking back at him.

Runt yelped and fled, making sure to collapse this newly dug portion of the mine behind him as he ran.

Ⱦ

Corporal Nobby Nobbs strolled along through the evening streets beside Hupba. The stillness of the Anhk-Morpork night was interrupted only by the chirping of crickets, occasional screams of terror, the sound of glass breaking, distant cries of "Guards! Guards!" and now and again, a thwapp as a corpse was dumped into the river.

"Well," said Nobby thoughtfully1, "if you wish to become a cat burglar, you'll need to join the guild."

"Oh, I already have!" she announced. "As of today, I am a member in good standing of the Guild of Ecdysiasts, Nautchers, Cancanieres and Exponents of Exotic Dance."

"Ah yes, well, but that guild is for your work as a, em, in the, er, temple, yes? What I mean is that, if you wish to become a cat burglar, you need to join the Guild of Thieves, Cutpurses, Housebreakers and Allied Trades."

"A different guild?"

"Well yes. Each trade has its own guild, see? Each licenses its members, trains them, polices them, makes sure that no non-members horn in on guild business, collects fees, and sends a certain portion of those fees to the Patrician so he can run the city. It's all very efficient."

Hupba scratched her nose. "How in the world would a thieves' guild police thieves?"

"Well miss, licensed thieves are held to certain standards, doncha see? For example, they never cause undue distress. A licensed burglar, after ransacking a house, will always be careful to place everything (not stolen) back where he found it. And thieves must also comply with the dress code. Burglars must wear an eye mask, a flat cap, a stripy jumper and a bag labeled "SWAG." Other specialties have their own uniforms. Thieves must speak in thieves' cant or at the very least, rhyming slang. Licensed thieves are required to carry their membership cards to all official activities, to wit, stealing something. And thieves have one supreme rule that trumps all others: They must always, always, always leave a receipt."

"And if they don't? Or, if a non-member commits a theft?"

"Oh miss, then it's a crime, and that's bad. That's very bad. The miscreant had better hope that the City Watch catches 'em because we treat lawbreakers humanely. But the Thieves' Guild has its own enforcers, and they ain't nowhere as nice as we are. If they catch an unlicensed thief, he'll be lucky if they kill him and dump his body in the river. The unlucky ones get dumped in the river while they're still breathin'."

1 The words "Nobby" and "thoughtfully" have been combined within a single sentence. Someone should alert the Anhk-Morpork Times.


	3. Chapter 3

Susan Sto Helit had little choice but to enter into Death's Domain. She had been getting far too many complaints about her grandfather. Death it seemed was no longer content merely to usher newly departed souls out of this world and into the next. Lately he had developed a need to do it with a bit of humor.

There were complaints of him attempting to use poons (that is, humorous plays on words), practical jokes and in one disastrous instance, a whoopee cushion. Death should arrive with dignity, not with a hand buzzer.

Miss Susan arrived at his foreboding, colorless residence to find him out and making his rounds. No surprise there; Death never took a holiday.

She wandered around the endless rooms and found another puzzling change. A bathtub. It was the old-fashioned kind, black enamel over cast iron, lion's-claw legs, and a lid which fit over it, leaving a space for the bather's head and chest to emerge. The lid was also black enamel with a white skull and cross bones. Perhaps Death was starting to feel his age and had learned to appreciate a hot bath for his chilled bones.

Lacking anything better to do, Miss Susan filled the tub with steaming hot water and added some strawberry bath salts, which she always carried for emergencies such as this. She also set out her small collection of snail-shell-shaped bath soaps. Then she doffed her clothing, inched her way into the too hot water, and pulled the lid on to hold in the steam.

She was just beginning to enjoy the deliciousness of the hot bath when there came a fluttering of wings. Quoth the Raven settled on the windowsill, and off his back climbed the Death of Rats. The skeletal rodent began squeaking frantically at her.

"He says you're a hard lady to find," translated the raven.

"Not if he looks in the right place." If Miss Susan were anything, she was sensible.

The raven hopped down and over towards the bath soaps while the Death of Rats squeaked some more. "He needs to tell you that one of the books in the Unseen University Library has chewed itself free, and has been killing rats."

Miss Susan extended an arm and ran a soapy washcloth along it. "That's his problem, not mine."

More squeaks. "True, but the L-Space of the library has pressed up against the Dungeon Dimensions, and there is now a doorway between the two."

"Still, not my problem. I'm sure the Librarian has that doorway well barred."

Following more squeaks, Quoth said, "Also true. But it seems the Book is now gnawing its way through the door."

The washcloth stopped moving. Miss Susan's eyes grew fierce. "That is my problem."

Quote pecked hopefully at one of her soaps. He squawked and quickly hopped backwards.

"Not an eyeball?"

The raven frantically wiped his bill on the side of the tub. "Not even close."

Ⱦ

"Hee hee hee, hee hee hee." The clerk at the Thieves' Guild gave Hupba an indulgent chuckle. "But my dear," he chortled, "the dues for joining the Thieves' Guild, especially with a cat burglar specialty, are very expensive. Very."

"Oh. I didn't realize. Em, how much?"

He leaned forward and with bushy eyebrows bobbing whispered, "Three dollars."

Hupba's heart sank. "Three?" she whimpered. She upended her purse onto the man's desk. Crumpled bills cascaded out. "Do all these add up to three dollars?"

The clerk was agog. "Uh, where did you say you worked again?"

"I'm a priestess trainee at the Temple of Phphsst, down by the docks."

"And you made all this working as a priestess?"

"Priestess trainee."

"Well ah, well ah, well ah . . ."

"You'll have to help me. I'm not very good with money."

"Really? When then sure." He reached into the pile and took out three $100 notes. See this? That's one dollar and zero-zero cents. One and one and one are three. Three dollars. And look, you still have plenty of money left over."

"Oh thank you!"

He filled out a membership card for her in record time. "Here's your membership card. Keep it with you whenever you're stealing. And this next item is most important." He gave her a pad of receipt forms. "Your receipts. Whenever you steal, you have to give a receipt. Here, let me show you how to fill one out."

He scooched around, and she scooched around the other way to see better. "Let's say I am the thief and you are my victim, okay? I write my name on the first line where it says 'thief'. The victim's name goes here on the second line, so I'll write that in. The estimated value of the theft goes on the next line. Sometimes you know it; sometimes you'll just have to guess; and sometimes the victim will be screaming it at you: 'That's my grandfather's antique watch! It's worth $1,000!' Okay, so here, let's say I pilfered, oh, $297. And on the last line, you need to specify the type of theft, and so I'll write in, say, 'swindle'. Okay, do you understand?" He tore off the receipt and handed it to her.

"Oh yes! Thank you, you've been very helpful!" Hupba couldn't restrain herself. She bent over and kissed his cheek.

Ⱦ

Miss Susan marched determinedly towards the main gate of the Unseen University.

A pair of guards in bearskin uniforms1 blocked her path. "Hey now, missy, where do you think you're going!" To the guard, she looked like nothing more than a mere slip of a girl, reasonably pretty, with white hair containing a single front-to-back streak of black.

She fixed am icy stare on him.

"Well now, y'know, girls aren't allowed inside the Unseen University. Wizards only. They must remain caste. It's in de rules, it is."

The corners of Miss Susan's mouth flickered upwards. It may have been caused by a passing amusing thought or perhaps it was a sign of annoyance. "Very well." She turned and began walking away.

Susan Sto Helit was not a witch, but like witches, she had the ability to make herself, well not exactly invisible, but rather very hard to notice. She had gone only a few steps away before she turned around and walked slowly and gently right passed the guards and into the university.

BOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMM! It wasn't the anger of the gods she heard. Susan looked up to see lightning bolts repeatedly striking the university's Tower of Art. When she realized what was happening, she breathed "Oh no!" and broke into a run.

Ⱦ

Hupba bounced out of the Thieves' Guild office. "Nobby, look!" She proudly displayed her new membership card.

"Well that's lovely, miss. Now you can do all the thievin' you want, and it's all legal."

BOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMM!

She turned to see dark clouds flinging lightning bolt after lightning bolt at a gnarled, twisting tower which must have climbed at least 800 feet into the ominous sky.

"What's that?"

"Oh miss, it happens every now and again. Dark clouds roll in from some foreign place, and their lightning hits the Unseen University's Tower of Art over and over again. No one knows why. Maybe the lighting ain't fond of the arts."

"Can we get closer?"

"Not too much closer, miss, on account of the Unseen University being off limits to wimmen, especially pretty ones. Gaaa, they wouldn't let you in there in a million years."

"Are you saying, you think I'm pretty?"

"Ah miss, I think you look like an angel."

"Isn't that sweet. I think you look like a god2."

Nobby blushed prettily. Or maybe the pinkness in his face was due to the setting sun.

Soon, the cat burglars would be coming out.

1 The guards' bearskin uniforms were much more controversial before a spelling error was corrected.

2 Hupba diplomatically refrained from mentioning which god Nobby looked like.


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Susan ran towards the Tower of Arts in the center of the campus. The ancient tower was the oldest building of the Unseen University. It had been repaired so many times, it now twisted and bulged, much like a gnarled yew tree.

She got to its entrance and found a pair of rotting oaken doors (and in some places cedar and pine), rusty-iron studs, with wood beams nailed in a crisscross fashion over the two doors. There was a sign:

Building Condemned.

KEEP OUT!

This means you!

(And also the illiterate guy you brought with you –

Nice try.)

Death's granddaughter had inherited many of his powers, such as walking through walls. She entered.

The innards of the Tower of Arts had long since rotted away. All that was left was a crumbling stone staircase, spiraling up the inside of the outer wall.

On the outside, the tower was 800 feet. But on the inside, it was over a mile high. Crows and other macabre birds circled high up in the dusty air near the top of the hollow tower, their caws echoing. In the walls way up there, were arch-shaped holes where windows once looked out over the city. Across the filthy floor, grey mice scampered.

BOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMM!

The Tower shook as more lightning hit it. Reality seemed to jump back and forth. Suddenly, Miss Susan was looking at the Tower has it had been 800 hundred years before. The core of the building was filled with classrooms, and young wizards-to-be clogged the narrow passages as they hurried to make their next classes.

BOOM! CRASH! BLAMMMM!

She was back. The tower once again was just an empty husk.

Quoth circled down from above. "What just happened?"

"Time bolts are hitting the tower," shouted Miss Susan over the storm. "Chronology is becoming fragmented and jumbled. The past becomes present. The future's knocked into the past. Yesterday may have never happened, and tomorrow is no longer just a day away!"

"Seems to me like a bad place to be."

"A really, really bad place," agreed Miss Susan.

"See ya," sang out Raven, and he flapped his wings as he climbed towards one of the window holes.

Ⱦ

Hupba's black jeans and black turtleneck clung to her curves as if they were painted on. She made sure her black calfskin gloves and black ski mask were snuggly in place. Hupba checked the straps on her black doeskin half boots, the coil of black rope affixed to her belt, and her black felt burglary tool kit. All was ready.

She slid open the window to her room, reached over to the nearby rain pipe, took a good hold, and began to climb. As she neared the top, it popped free of the wall and began bending over streetwards. Panic seized her; should he let go and drop? No, any fall from this height would be fatal.

The top of the rain pipe caught the top of the building across the street and stuck. So she crept sloth-like along the bottom of the pipe, and when she reached the other building, she pulled herself up, got her bearings and hurried across its roof.

At the far edge, a trio of steam pipes bridged a gap over to the next building. She leaped up onto them, and with the soles of her boots sizzling, she ran across and jumped down onto the next roof.

It took a running start to catch the sloped edge of the next building, but she did it on the first try. She pulled herself up, and then ran up the shingles and down the far side, where she leaped into darkness.

Down she plunged, two stories. When she hit the next roof, she rolled, and her somersault took her over a skylight, which shattered under her weight. The backflop onto the stone floor knocked the wind out of her. She staggered up onto her feet and into the dusty smell of a long-abandoned storeroom. She felt her way over to the door, forced it open, and stumbled along the pitch-black corridor to the window at the far end. It didn't open easily, but after giving it a sound thrashing, she managed to push it up.

There was no way to climb down, but there was a slow-moving haywagon trotting by, going in the right direction. So Hupba jumped.

The soft hay cradled her landing. She glanced over and spied the pitchfork right next to her. Ulp. The haywagon wound its way through Anhk-Morpork's streets right passed the entrance to the Unseen University. Silent as a cat, she slipped off the back of the wagon and crouched in the darkness.

One either side of the entrance stood a torch-lit guard in a bearskin uniform. She needed to distract them. She felt around the cobblestones until she found a loose one. It was not difficult to pry it free. The stone wasn't large, just big enough to fill the palm of her hand.

She stood up in the darkness and hurled the stone in a high arch passed the guards and into the darkness beyond. She waited for it to hit with a clatter. And waited. And waited. When the stone finally did come down, it hit her in the back of the head.

Ⱦ

The Book was several yards into the Dungeon Dimensions. It had no memory of having gotten here. It looked behind itself and saw a large hole had been chewed through the oak door. The Book had no memory of having chewed it. Through the hole in the door, the Book could see a monstrosity disappearing into the library. It looked like a jungle of giant tentacles combined with a riot of disarrayed feathers.

There was the sound of a shriek. That was the sound a orangutan would make if it were being swallowed alive.

Ⱦ

Hupba swam back to consciousness in a swirling miasma of doggie halitosis. A scruffy white dog was inches from her nose, looking at her with great curiosity. "New around here, are you?"

She scrambled up onto one hip. "What?"

"Er . . . woof, woof," said the dog.

This was miraculous. "Are you a god?"

The dog blinked. "Yes," he lied smoothly. "Yes I am."

"I thought so! I am Hupba, priestess trainee of the goddess Phphsst."

The nub of a tail beat the ground with hopeful expectancy.

"And you are . . ?"

"Oh. Gadpode. God of, er, table scraps, kitchen leavings, tasty garbage, and doggie bags."

Pain throbbed in back of her head. Her hand came away with smears of blood. "What happened here, O Great One."

"It's that place," sneered Gaspode tilting his head at the Unseen University. "Too much magic. It twists spacetime. Throw a rock; it circles around and hits you."

"I have to get in there."

"No can do. Against the rules. No ladies. Y'see, wizards are in heat all the time. Well. I mean, they're in heat when they're not eating, or snoozing, or avoiding students like the plague, or . . . Well theoretically, they're in heat all the time."

"I have to get in there! You're a god! You can help me!"

"It's impossible."

"You're a god! You can outsmart the guards!"

"Outsmart? Hmm. Yes. That should be easy." After a moment's thought, he trotted in a wide arch though the darkness to come suddenly bursting into the light from the other side. Gaspode was frantically barking (as best he could).

"Bark, bark! Come quickly! Woof woof! Timmy's trapped in a burning building! Bow wow!"

"Wazzat?" asked one of the two guards. "What are you trying to tell us, boy?"

Gaspode winced. He tried again. "Bark, bark! Come quickly! Woof woof! Timmy's trapped in a burning building! Bow wow!"

"Hey!" said the second guard. "I think he's trying to tell us that Timmy is trapped in a burning building."

"We gotta tell the Sarge!"

"Bow wow wow! No time! Follow me! Woof! Now!" He started leading the way away. Gaspode took a look back to make sure the two guards were following, and when he spied the dark figure slipping through the entrance, he suddenly accelerated, ran in a wide circle, and shot through the unguarded entrance after her.

"So long, suckers!"

"Hey. Did that dog just talk?"

"Don't be daft, man. Dogs can't talk."


	5. Chapter 5

Great waves of jumbled time rolled off across the campus of the Unseen University. Miss Susan arrived in the central reading room of the campus library several minutes before she left the Tower of Arts. She had to wait for herself to catch up. (Or maybe to go on ahead; even Miss Susan wasn't too sure.)

In a cozy overstuffed chair by the cheerful fireplace, sat the Lecturer in Ancient Runes. He was reading a hefty tome. "Oh, uh, Miss Susan," he gulped, glancing down to make sure his robes hadn't fallen open to reveal embarrassing nether parts. (They never hand before, but this would be a bloody inconvenient time for them to start.)

"Professor, what are you doing here in the middle of a time storm?"

"Oh, my girl, best time for it you know. All those pesky students are crowded into the High-Energy Magic Building to observe whatever it is they observe over there. While over here, my book of ancient runes keeps converting itself into modern runes and becomes so much easier to read."

"Professor, you must get out of here immediately. From deep inside the library comes the most disgusting, despicable creature you can ever image."

He frowned. "Are you speaking of a student with an intelligent, well thought-out question?"

She shook her head. "Much worse. A monster that has escaped from the Dungeon Dimensions. Quick, find the Senior Wrangler. Tell him to meet me here."

"Oh dear girl," the old man chuckled. "While it is true that the Senior Wrangler is in charge of all extraordinary creatures, he tends to specialize in happy things, you know, like unicorns. I doubt that he's ever dealt with anything more dangerous than a salamander. I shall not be able to convince him to come."

"Tell him that, if he doesn't come, I shall be quite angry with him."

"Oh," replied the Lecturer in Ancient Runes. "Oh my. Oh dear. Oh, I say! Oh you wouldn't, would you?"

"Tell him that I _insist_ that he comes." Susan went over to the fireplace and picked up the poker. She took a few practice swings with it.

"Oh dear," whimpered the Lecturer in Ancient Runes as he scrambled to his feet. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear." He waddled off as quickly as he could.

Ⱦ

Hupba and Gaspode stared at the sign on the tower doors.

Building Condemned.

KEEP OUT!

This means you!

(And also the illiterate guy you brought with you –

Nice try.)

"What does it say?" asked Gaspode.

Hupba glance down at him. "Dogs welcome."

"Really? Sweeeeet. So uh, how do we get in?"

She looked around. Then she looked up, and up, and up. "There's some windows way up there. I suppose I could climb."

"Wait. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's finding rear entrances. Stay here. I'll be right back." He trotted off into the darkness.

A little while later he trotted back from the other side. "Look at that," marveled Gaspode. "Just like the university, the tower itself also warps spacetime into a huge circle. I started off going one way and here I am coming back from the opposite direction."

"Or maybe it's just a round tower."

The dog kicked at a flea. "Oh sure, take its side."

"I think I'm going to have to climb."

Gaspode craned his next to look upwards. Way upwards. "Good luck with that."

"You're not coming too?"

"Love to, but my divine powers end about one foot above the surface of Discworld. Up there, I'd just be an ordinary talking dog."

"I see." She got down on her knees and kowtowed. "O Exalted One, thank you for your divine assistance."

He licked her cheek. "If you find any doggie treats in there, bring them back as an offering, okay?"

"Yes of course, Exalted One." She rose, wedged the rim of her bootsole into the space between stones, found a similar gap above for her fingers, and began to inch her way up the side of the tower.

Ⱦ

After another time wave rippled passed, Miss Susan found the librarian lying semi-conscious on the floor. He was soaked in digestive juices. With a great deal of leverage, she helped the 300-pound orangutan up onto its hind feet.

"Eek!" exclaimed the librarian as he came to. "Eek, eek, eek!" Then he went stumbling off. There were two things of which the librarian was sorely in need. One was a bath, and the second was a banana daiquiri. Maybe he'd just combine the two and have a bathtub full of banana daiquiris.

Ⱦ

Hupba didn't remember climbing, but somehow she found herself high up on the Tower of Arts, nearing the lowest of the window holes. "Phphsst help me!" she screamed, but her words were snatched away by the howling winds. Lightning ripped the skies. Thunder, uh well, thundered.

She crawled like a human fly the last few yards to the window opening, and pulled herself into it. From her new perch on the filthy windowsill, she looked down and down and down.

Hundreds of years of powerful magic had warped spacetime, and so the core of the tower was not the mere 800 feet she had climbed up (or perhaps had not climbed up). The distance down was over a mile. Originally, the stone staircase that spiraled up the inner wall of the tower had consisted of 8,888 steps. Today, it had only 8,088 steps and 2 really wide gaps.

Yet somewhere in this warped and gnarled tower was the lost time of Djelibeybi. It had been flared off by her nation's pyramids, carried here in thunderstorms, and then slammed into this tower.

As Hupba contemplated how to get down, a bolt of time slammed into her like the fist of an infuriated god. It blasted her from her perch on the windowsill and hurled her head-over-heels into the vertical emptiness of the ancient tower.

Ⱦ

The Book was confused. Just a moment earlier, it had been making its way ever deeper into the dreary darkness of the Dungeon Dimensions. The Book had a distinct memory of looking back and seeing some sort of monster escaping through the hole the Book had chewed.

Now, the Book was back in the library looking at a barely chewed upon door. There was no hole; there certainly was no escaping monster.

The Book sought inner wisdom, looking first to its own Table of Contents, and then turning to its Index. Even though it was a dark and evil book, no topic it addressed covered this conundrum.

Ⱦ

"Oof!"

Hupba bellyflopped onto the hardwood floor of a classroom.

Youthful wizarding students instinctively gasped and pulled back. Excited murmuring swept through the room.

"Oh," said the instructor. "It seems we have a visitor,"

Hupba's ski mask was all twisted around. Her right eye was looking out the left eyehole and wasn't doing that all too well. So she tugged the mask off, and the excited murmuring suddenly got far more excited.

"It seems our visitor is a young lady."

A handful of the more lecherous students rushed forward to help Hupba to her feet and to brush the dust off her. There seemed to be quite a bit of dust.

"Where am I?"

"Why, my dear, you are in Fortune Telling 102, Professor Mulligans instructing."

"In the Tower of Arts?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

Hupba shook her head. "I'm not even going ask the year."

"Oh my. Oh my."

"You can say that again," groaned Hupba, steadying herself on a nearby empty desk.

Professor Mulligans stood a little straighter. "Class, who can tell me of the Reverse Prophecy of Grism?"

A few uncertain hands snaked upwards.

"Yes?"

"Well Professor, it's a prophecy which comes down to us from the future. It predicts . . . or rather postdicts, since it's a reverse prophecy . . . a time-travelling young lady who suddenly appears in a fortune telling class in the Tower of Arts."

"And what is she seeking?"

"Why, the Smoking Mirror of Grism, of course. That's why the prophecy is called the Reverse Prophecy of Grism."

"And does she find the Smoking Mirror of Grism?"

"Sure," replied the student, and he turned and pointed to the back of the classroom. "It's right there."


	6. Chapter 6

Miss Susan stalked ever deeper into the darkness. Darkness held no terror for Miss Susan. To the contrary, it tended to creep out of her way.

Deep within the library, she located the Book, chewing determinedly upon the bottom to the oaken door. "Good evening," she said in a pleasant yet threatening way.

The Book turned and growled.

"Would you please return to your shelf? I must chain you back down."

The Book growled again.

She sighed. "That's way I thought." She came forward slowly, lifted the fireplace poker and WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, WHAM!

Ⱦ

The Smoking Mirror of Grism was a twelve-inch-high, eight-sided construct. Each of its eight facets was a triangular mirror. It looked like a pair of square triangles, fixed together at their bases. Gray wisps of smoke drifted lazily away from it.

Professor Mulligans asked, "Who can explain how the Smoking Mirror of Grism works?" He chose from one of the many raised hands.

"Its eight sides are all one-way mirrors," the student explained. "Light can escape, but can never enter. Now then, we all know that nature abhors a vacuum, right? So when the light escapes, what is pulled in to replace it? Well, time of course. The timestorms which blow in from Djelibeybi dump massive amounts of excess time into the Tower of Arts, and this extra time is drawn inside the mirror, causing it to smoke."

"And what happens if the mirror is ever broken?"

The student looked frightened. "I don't know, but I wouldn't want to be there."

"What else do we know about the mirror?"

Another student answered, "According to the reverse prophecy, the lady time traveller will seize the mirror and escape, just as the bell tower begins ringing twelve. If she doesn't make it to the bottom of the stairs by the twelfth ring, she will be trapped in our time forever.

GONG!

Ⱦ

Miss Susan carried the unconscious Book back to the library's central reading room. She returned the badly bent poker to its rack beside the cheerful fireplace. The Book began to stir.

"Shhhh. Easy. Do you know where you are?"

The Book suddenly snarled and made a quick snap at her.

"Well, my goodness gracious! Enough of this." Miss Susan flung the pugnacious book into the fire.

It began to yowl.

"GOOD EVENING, SUSAN."

She started. Turning, she discovered a cowled and cloaked skeleton was standing next to her. His eyes gleamed like miniature blue supernovas, and one bony hand clutched a scythe.

"Good evening, Grandfather. I didn't hear you come in."

"FEW PEOPLE DO." He watched the Book burn for a while then reached in and pulled it from the flames. Curious, the turned through some of the pages. "THIS WOULDN'T HAPPEN TO BE A JOKE BOOK, WOULD IT?"

"No, Grandfather."

"PITY. I COULD USE SOME NEW MATERIAL. MY CURRENT EFFORTS AT HUMOR HAVE PROVED TO BE . . . DISAPPOINTING."

"Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"A WELL KNOWN HUMORIST NAMED MARC THRICE ONCE SAID THAT ALL HUMOR ARISES FROM PAIN AND SORROW. THIS BOOK APPEARS TO BE ABOUT HOW TO END THE WORLD. THAT'S PRETTY FUNNY, ISN'T IT?"

"I don't think most people would say so, no."

"HMMMM. PITY."

The Book snapped at him, seizing a finger bone. Death tried to shake it loose.

"What are you doing here?"

"OH, THE USUAL." He pointed to the fireplace, where the Book was slowly turning to ash. "JUST GATHERING IN ANOTHER SOUL WHOSE TIME HAS COME." He pried the spirit of the Book free from his finger, but it simply chomped onto his other hand.

"I didn't realize books had souls."

Death looked steadily at her. If he'd had an eyebrow, he would have raised it. "ALL LIVING THINGS HAVE SOULS."

"Grandfather, about your attempts at humor . . ."

"I SHALL TAKE THIS BOOK HOME WITH ME," Death declared. "I THINK YOU MAY BE WRONG. I THINK IT MAY CONTAIN QUITE A BIT OF HUMOR." He pried the Book off his hand. It sat there for a moment, panting, and then it bit Death's face.

"Please Grandfather . . ."

The cloaked figure fell backwards into nothingness, taking the Book with him.

Miss Susan trudged from the room, muttering, "The trouble with anthromorphological manifestations is that once they reach the age of infinity, there's just no reasoning with them."

Ⱦ

GONG! (Eight) GONG! (Nine) GONG! (Ten)

Hupba flew down the spiral staircase, knocking aside distracted students who were on their way to lunch, squeezing between them, throwing an elbow or two.

GONG! (Eleven) GONG! (Twelve!)

The core of the Tower of Arts disappeared in a twinkling, and Hupta plummeted the final fifteen feet though nothing but air. She twisted as she fell, sheltering the mirror with her body. The stone floor of the tower slammed into her back. Her landing raised a cloud of dust, but the Mirror of Grism sat safely on Hupba's belly.

She clambered up onto her feet, ignoring the pain the roared everywhere within her. She went to the doors. They were still nailed shut from the other side.

Hupba looked around for another exit. There was none. She looked up. The lowest of the windows above her were about a mile away. And there were two gigantic gaps in the steps she'd have to clear to get up there.

There was, simply stated, no possible way out.

Hupba sighed as the reality of her situation began to grip her. She had accomplished 99% of everything she'd set out to do. Yes, she'd recovered to lost time which had been keeping her nation in such a backward state. She now held it in her hands in the form of the Smoking Mirror of Grism. But unfortunately, she had ultimately failed in bringing this lost time back to Djelibeybi. Hupba had managed to inadvertently entomb herself in an abandoned and condemned tower. No one would ever find her here. The chances of her escaping from this prison were a million to one. A million to one.

Miss Susan walked in through a wall. "Is this your dog out here? He's being quite a pest."

Ⱦ

The Senior Wrangler crept cautiously into the library. He made his way into the central reading room. "Hello, Miss Susan?" He looked around but could see no sign of her.

Well, there was that bent and battered fireplace poker next to the cheerful fireplace. That might be a sign that she had been here. Maybe.

"Hello?"

He pensively scratched his rotund belly and then reluctantly, most reluctantly, quite reluctantly really, crept deeper into the library. Well, this simply wouldn't do. He was, after all, the Senior Wrangler. His expertise was in magical creatures. All he knew of libraries was from rumor, to wit, that the magical books in the libraries warped spacetime into the massive trans-dimensional complex called L-Space, which connected all these magical libraries together. He was now walking into a dark area, a frightening area. Who knew what lay back here?

"Miss Susan? Hello?"

Yes, he could turn and flee. That is, flee as much as a man of his girth could flee. Running away wasn't really "him." Waddling away quickly was probably the best he could do.

"Hello? Are you there?"

But he knew that if he turned and ran, that is—waddled-he'd have to later face the wrath of Miss Susan. And which was more terrifying, endless darkness which undoubted contained one or more of those legendary monsters from the Dungeon Dimensions . . . or Miss Susan? That question was easy. No monster had ever spoken to him harshly or had given him The Look.

The Senior Wrangler continued to shamble forward.

"Hello?"

The End

Hey, I just did a lot of typing. Won't you please do just a little tying? **Review this please.**


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